


Can't Always Get

by Dee_Laundry



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, UST, Videotaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-19
Updated: 2006-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Wilson is unsure when being a slut for House turned into this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Always Get

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit dark, with a very special screwed-upness in the House-Wilson friendship. Spoilers for "No Reason" and "Meaning." Also, presumes that Wilson did not have sex with Grace, despite moving in with her. **Special Note** : Handcrafted for the talented and lovely [](http://fallen-arazil.livejournal.com/profile)[**fallen_arazil**](http://fallen-arazil.livejournal.com/).

James Wilson is unsure when being a slut for House

> wanting him with an exquisite ache  
> developing excuses to be around him  
> being the mother hen just to have an exclusive role in his life

turned into being a slut for House

> Demetra, Susan, Kendra: recounting every detail  
> Michelle, Jean: on tape for House to watch later  
> Alan, or possibly Alex: in a back booth at Bump with House right there, no more than two feet away  
> Nina, Ben, Gail: videotaping again, on House’s bed, his couch, the bench of his piano – the sights and smells of House everywhere but the man himself in a bar around the corner, waiting

and still Wilson doesn’t get what he wants

> no touches from House  
> no kisses with House  
> no permission to map House’s skin, catalog his moans, discover exactly what his morning breath tastes like

When House is shot, Wilson is devastated that there may never be a chance. He turns for solace to the only one who might remotely understand, in a soft yellow room with no cameras. By the time they cross the threshold, he’s already learned what she tastes like and the light or the scent or perhaps her soft skin drives all thought of House from his mind.

For the first time since Julie – but oh, House was on his shoulder every minute then too – there’s only one other person in the room when Wilson has sex. Between the eighth kiss and the slow slide of her thong down legs he didn’t realize were quite that long, he’s become James and she’s Lisa, and it feels so goddamn good.

Her hands clutch at his hips, rub his back, scrape his neck, and suddenly this has become making love. He doesn’t know when that happened, but it’s warm and right and he feels he might cry. James closes his eyes against this possibility, although the ruby of her lips and the sweep of her lashes has been enthralling him, and thrusts harder.

Wilson’s learned a lot about women’s bodies but she boldly teaches him to know hers

> the pressure to apply on her breasts  
> the spot to kiss on her neck  
> the tempo to stimulate her clit

He’s lost in his pleasure, and her orgasm surprises him, clutches at him. He opens his eyes, wanting to memorize the expression on her face, and catching just the last bit. She’s silent, which he never would have anticipated, but it drives a moan from him to see her so satiated. His orgasm, a moment later, is almost an afterthought to him.

They sleep tangled in each other.

Every day of House’s ketamine coma Wilson spends at his side, having his staff bring in files, and paperwork, and a phone. He gets a lot done without House actively distracting him.

Every night of House’s ketamine coma James spends in that soft yellow room with Lisa and no one else.

House wakes up with a smile on his face, and Wilson has to remind himself to smile back. He spends the next week with House, getting badgered and bullied. There are other places he could be, but if the chick’s in the nest, Mama Hen’s gotta stay.

House kicks him out, goes to physical therapy, doesn’t call. Wilson thinks a lot, alone, in his apartment. He tries to reconcile Wilson and Cuddy with James and Lisa, but the pieces are

> different shapes  
> different sizes  
> different colors  
> made from different substances, stone vs. paper

He’s about decided to put it all behind him as a dream when there’s a knock at his door. It’s Cuddy, or maybe it’s Lisa, or maybe he could call her Baby-doll. He remembers, thankfully, to yank the camera cords from the wall before she steps into any given room.

Equilibrium develops. He’s figured out the patterns, who they are at work, who they are away. One whisper in his ear sweeps that aside – “House comes back to work tomorrow.” She’s brought House into the bedroom, and he can’t look at her.

She smiles at him and treats him with more kindness than he deserves. As Lisa and James part for the last time late on Sunday night, Cuddy says, “Meet me in my office early tomorrow. We’ll pick his first case together.”

House jokes that heroin is the sixth level of happiness. Better than the tripe about love that Wilson was going to say.

On Wednesday, House corners him in his office. “Hand over the tapes,” he says.

“Surgery tapes?” Wilson replies, although he knows quite well that’s not what’s intended.

“It’s been weeks, Jimmy,” House breathes, “and you cut the Internet feed.”

Wilson looks into House’s face and tells his first lie since House was shot. “My new cleaning person did it by mistake. She’s got three kids; I couldn’t fire her just for that.”

Clear blue eyes, free of Vicodin dull, show that House believes him. “The tapes?”

Wilson sighs, just for show. “I haven’t been in the mood.”

“That,” says House, as he moves firmly into Wilson’s personal space without actually touching him, “is an outrageous claim.”

“And perfectly true,” he replies. The truth is setting him free, this time, because he most definitely was not in the mood to tape a single action, single word.

House stalks away. Can you stalk with a bounce in your step? Yes, you can, if you’re Greg House moving without a cane for the first time in years.

There will be a penalty of some kind for the lack of tapes, but Wilson’s not thinking about that now. He’s trying to conceive a scheme, a dodge, a hustle, to get House’s mind off the puzzle the lack of tapes represents.

When it comes to House, Wilson is a slut and Cuddy is a sucker, but Lisa and James deserve their peace.


End file.
